The Only Living Thing
by ibbity
Summary: Toris talks about why he loves Natalya.
1. Toris

It's always cold in Ivan's house. Which is strange, because the windows are never open but yet there always seems to be a cold breeze blowing from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Maybe the cold comes from Ivan himself.

In this house time, in a way, seems to have stopped, because nothing ever changes and although I can see the days turning into night turning into day again and outside my window the seasons cycle by, inside everything is absolutely still as if it was frozen in place a long time ago. Even the others who are here with me don't change, on the outside anyway. I haven't noticed much change in myself either, except that as time stretches on without bearing anything away or bringing new things in its wake I find it easier and easier to sink into a state of being in which I am only half aware of what is going on around me while I move through my tasks mechanically, lost inside my own head. Numb with cold and with solitude, for even when the others are there there is a barrier between us of that same numbness which affects us all.

Except…

Except for _her._

Natalya.

To tell the truth, it wasn't so much her lovely face that first caught my attention. It was the energy in her movements and the purposefulness in her stride as she marched past me, the first time I ever laid eyes on her. She didn't so much as spare me a glance, but I could see there was something different about her. She had something the rest of us did not have-a focus. And that focus gave her strength. I didn't know who she was, or if I would ever see her again, but I found that I couldn't get that image out of my mind for the rest of the day. That evening Ivan introduced her to us as his younger sister Natalya. He appeared to be somewhat nervous of her, which was startling, but understandable once we found out what her focus _was._

She isn't always here. She comes and goes at will and seemingly at random. When she's here, Ivan spends a lot more time avoiding her than he does playing with us, but that isn't the reason I feel as I do towards her. It's not because she likes me either; in fact, she bears me some animosity, presumably out of jealousy since I'm her brother's favorite toy and she wants his attention for herself. She doesn't seem to be aware that it's not an honor I especially wish to cling to. Not that I would wish on_ her_ the kind of life I lead.

I'm perfectly aware of her violent tendencies-how could I not be, when they've been directed at me? She's broken my fingers, hit me, shoved me against the wall hard enough to bruise. Maybe it hints at some unhealthy trace of masochism in me that I don't care. I do care that Ivan hurts me, I hate that. But I don't mind at all the pain that Natalya inflicts. Maybe it's because Ivan does it without a seeming of malice-even when he's angry, it drains away while he's hitting me, replaced by a strange sort of calm, in which state he continues dispassionately to beat me until I can't stand up anymore, at which point he quietly leaves and doesn't behave, when next I see him, as if he remembers the incident at all. Sometimes he pets my head for a minute before he goes, as if he's already forgotten why I'm on the floor, if he ever knew. I don't always know myself why he beats me.

But Natalya isn't like that. All her attacks on me come out of impulse and are delivered in a passion. She's very well aware of what she's doing, and we both know why she's doing it. I can forgive and get past that a lot easier. Besides, she's the only one in this house whom I have ever seen do anything in a fit of emotion. No one else has the energy or the direction.

I can only remember one time when she was kind to me, if indeed it really happened. It was when Ivan had gotten upset at something I had done, or not done-it was one of those instances when I was never really sure of the reason-and had beaten me unusually hard for it. I must have actually fainted, because I passed from awareness of what he was doing to suddenly realizing that he was gone and I was lying on the floor alone; some time had clearly passed, because it was darker than it had been. I could tell I was bleeding, but I couldn't summon up the strength to move, so I just lay there and began to cry softly because of the pain and because I felt so miserable-it had been a bad week for me and this was the lowest point.

After a little while, the door opened quietly and Natalya came in. I don't know why-I doubt she could have heard me from the hall. But she came in and stood over me for a minute, looking down. I put my hand over my eyes because I hated that she was seeing me like this. Then I heard a rustle of cloth and a small hand wrapped itself around mine and pulled it away from my face. Natalya was kneeling beside me with an unreadable expression on her face. She stared into my eyes for what seemed like a very long time, although it was probably only a few seconds. Then she let go of my hand, took the corner of her apron and dried my tears with it. After that, she rose and left without a word, closing the door behind her. I'm still not sure that I didn't hallucinate all of that, since the next time we met she acted exactly the same as she always does.

All of us here move on a cold, dark plane of existence, or maybe it's that we all have our own little planes which only meet tangentially. Natalya is heat and light and congruence, forcing us together if only to stare in surprise. She moves through our claustrophobic world like a comet, leaving a brief illumination in her wake, just enough to let us know she has been here.

The only truly living thing in this house.


	2. Natalya

_**A/N: Well, I had meant this to just be a one-shot but then I started thinking about it and decided to make it a three-part. So, here's part two. Part three might be a little while coming since I'm not sure exactly where I want to take it, but it will arrive eventually. In the meantime, here's Natalya's take on the events of part one.**_

I don't generally waste my time analyzing things. I prefer to just deal with them as they come. Besides, anything that won't let me get closer to my brother is pretty much useless anyway. Like Toris. He's something getting in between me and Ivan. My brother prefers to play with him over spending time with me, for some stupid reason. I've often thought that while I personally draw the line at permanently removing him myself, it wouldn't displease me if someone or something else did. Especially since he seems to have some kind of romantic fixation on me. That irritates me no end. Not only that, but he totally ignores all my hints that he should go away and leave me alone, no matter how obvious I make them. He's nothing but a pain.

At least, that's the only thought I had about him until recently. I didn't bother thinking of him as anything other than a sort of annoying talking household fixture, because I didn't have any reason to. But ever since the thing that happened a while ago, I'm having different thoughts and they're making me uneasy.

I had gone to my dear brother's house for a surprise visit, except that when I got there I found that he had gone out suddenly and wasn't expected to return for several days. This was a nuisance, especially since I had things to do that week and couldn't stay long enough to wait for him, but I decided to spend the night anyway since it was getting late. Ivan's house is enormous, and when I stay over I like to stay in a bedroom I haven't slept in before, so I was wandering through a wing that I was unfamiliar with, looking in this room and that, hoping to find one to my liking. I didn't think there was anyone but me in that wing, so it was rather a shock when I opened the fifth door and saw Toris. He was lying on the floor without the lights on, which seemed odd to me, so I went in to demand an explanation.

I hadn't gotten very far into the room when I saw that there was blood spattered around the area, and his back was covered with it. He was looking up at me, and although the light was dim I could see that he was crying. Then he put his hand over his eyes, and I realized that it was out of shame that I was seeing him in such a state. All things considered none of this should have mattered to me, but that gesture gave me a strange feeling in my throat, almost a choking sensation. Moving on instinct, without really thinking about what I was doing, I went down on my knees next to him and pulled his hand away from his face, and the look in his eyes went through me like an icicle through a snowbank. All of a sudden I didn't feel particularly comfortable, and I didn't want to stay there, but for some reason I felt like I should do something before I left, so I took my apron and wiped his tears with it. Then I left.

Walking down the hallway back towards the main house, I met Edouard and Raivis, who appeared to be somewhat worried. Edouard hailed me and asked if I had seen Toris.

"He's in a room back that way," I said, pointing over my shoulder. I was startled to hear myself add, "He's in bad shape."

Edouard looked at me for a second, then nodded sharply and headed off down the hall at a rapid pace. Raivis stayed where he was, staring at me in a somewhat accusatory manner. I recalled suddenly that he held Toris very dear for some ineffable reason.

"It wasn't me," I said. I felt compelled to say it; I don't know why. Raivis continued to stare, and I repeated sharply, "I didn't hurt him." Raivis bit his lip, then nodded and followed after Edouard.

I didn't see Toris again for a bit after that, and I wasn't sure how to deal with what I'd done, so when I did see him next I just glared and stalked past him, pretending nothing had happened at all. Except, I can't seem to pretend it to myself, because I can't stop wondering what inspired me to behave so strangely. Not only that, but I've begun to wonder why I hate Toris so much, besides the fact that my brother likes him better, and even to wonder if I've been blaming him for something that's not his fault. These thoughts make me feel as though the floor is sliding under my feet, because I have an awful suspicion that there's something building that's going to come out sometime soon, and I might not like it when it does. But until then, I'm going to put on a face like nothing's changed.

After all, there's no reason why Toris should know any of this.


	3. Toris II

_**A/N: So here's part three. There's going to have to be at least one more part though, probably two, since the story isn't done yet. **_

Not long after that day, I'm dusting shelves when I catch a glimpse of motion in the corner of my eye. I turn my head and am surprised to see Natalya standing in the doorway. She is staring at me with the same unreadable slight frown she always wears. I smile at her and continue dusting.

"Toris." I'm startled; she's never called me by name before.

"Can I help you?" I answer. Natalya doesn't reply for a minute, only continues to stare as though she were trying to pierce a hole in me with her eyes. Then she says abruptly, "How is your back?"

I blink at her in confusion. "It's getting better," I say, hearing the uncertainty in my own voice. "I mean, it's healing…" I trail off as she comes towards me. Her face hasn't changed, but her eyes are beginning to look a little strange. I feel a sudden twinge of apprehension as she veers around and behind me, and then an agonizing pain as she smacks me on the back. Tears spring involuntarily to my eyes; I can't restrain a gasp, and I have to steady myself against the wall so my knees don't give way. Even with all the violence Natalya's shown me in the past, I've never known her do something so calculatedly vicious before.

Natalya walks the rest of the way around me to stand in front of me, studying my face again. Generally after doing something to me she just goes away; she doesn't usually express interest in the results. Another anomaly in her behavior today.

"Why did you do that?" I ask, and I'm not sure if I mean her hitting me or just everything lately. Again, she stares silently for a second, then says, "Why do you do _that?_"

"Do what?" All I did was stand there. She started everything, for some reason I can't fathom.

"Why do you just submit to whatever anyone does to you without trying to defend yourself?" The strange look in her eyes is back, and I recognize it now as anger, the same anger I can also now hear in her voice, which has only ever sounded contemptuous in addressing me before.

"I…" I'm out of my depth in this conversation and floundering. "I don't…I don't know, I mean, well…" I step backwards as Natalya takes a step towards me. "Listen."

She stops, stands still. I bite my lip, trying to gather my words, hyperaware that she is standing much closer than usual. "It's like this." I find that I am twisting and untwisting my fingers together, so I clasp my hands behind my back. "With Iv…your brother. Do you think I'm here because I chose to be? He brought me here and keeps me here. He can do that. He's much, much stronger than I am. I _can't _do anything to defend myself against him. I've tried-don't you know that? I've tried!" My voice is shaking. I didn't intend to get so emotional, but she can't know that this is an issue I've stabbed myself with over and over, my own helplessness and enforced passivity. I suck in a quick breath, let it out just as quickly. "I have to let him do what he wants." My voice is steadier, but there's a defeated tone in it that makes me flinch, hearing it. Maybe this is part of why she hates me, my weakness. It's not a pretty thing.

"And you." I'm clutching my fingers together behind my back, so hard they hurt. "I don't…have a good answer for it. Not really. Just that…it's you." I'm aware that I sound like a fool. I don't know what else to say.

Natalya cocks her head at a very slight angle, as though she were studying me. I look away for a second, then back. There's yet another unfamiliar expression in her eyes, one which makes me a little uneasy. Abruptly she moves towards me; instinctively I jerk backwards, and fetch up hard against the wall, realizing that my hands are still behind me as she stops barely short of physical contact. I can't move unless she steps back, so my hands are stuck. Ordinarily I would be quite pleased to have her so close, but I'm a little afraid of her just now.

Natalya stares directly into my eyes with that funny look in her own. She seems as though she could keep this up all day, but everything I've just said to her keeps playing itself over in my head and it's bringing up thoughts and memories I don't like, and I can't bear it. I turn my head aside, swallowing hard, feeling my mouth trembling, and I am ashamed that once again she's getting a nice close-up view of the gaping holes in my defenses, and I wish she would stop looking at me, and I shut my eyes against everything.

Unexpectedly, I feel a hand on my arm, and my eyes fly open. I look round at Natalya again, as she brings up her other hand and reaches towards me. I flinch a little-can't help myself-and Natalya pauses for a minute, her eyebrows twitching together momentarily. Then she gently lays her hand against the side of my face and keeps it there. I stop breathing.

After a moment, Natalya steps back, and without explaining herself or saying goodbye she spins on her heel and walks rapidly out of the room. My legs suddenly give way, and I collapse on the floor, feeling first the pain in my back, from my arms having been pressed against it, and then dizziness in my head. I have no idea what just happened, but putting it all together I feel as though I've been standing in what I thought was a stationary place with clearly defined boundaries, but the ground has suddenly begun to slide, and when I reach out for the walls I thought were there I encounter only empty space with nothing to brace myself against, and I don't know what to do with all the strangeness. Intellectually I suppose I should be pleased that Natalya seems less hostile, but everything that's happened this past few days seems to be suddenly crashing down on me at once and I can't seem to muster up any happiness, only a sick feeling of uncertainty, and I draw my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them so the world will go away.


End file.
